


In League With Dragons

by coralmarrow



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Booty Calls, Bottom Kaiba Seto, Drinking, Drinking & Talking, M/M, Masturbation, Post-Canon, References to Drugs, Sex Toys, Smoking, how kaiba got his groove back, kaiba makes a friend (kinda)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-04 19:19:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17903999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coralmarrow/pseuds/coralmarrow
Summary: Seto Kaiba makes the most important online purchase of his adult life, and it leads to a more eventful night than he bargained for. Also known as three chapters of free advertising for Bad-Dragon.com





	1. Bad Dragon

**Author's Note:**

> There are two scenes that involve smoking in this fic at the end of the first and second chapters, reader beware.

Seto’s tired eyes flicked from one of the many documents open on the screen of his laptop to the clock in the bottom right corner — 2 AM always managed to sneak up on him. It was far from the latest he’d stayed up meticulously scouring expense reports and proposals, but for once he hadn’t planned on letting this be his whole night. He glanced up across the glass desk of his home office littered with stacks of files and stared at an unopened cardboard shipping box that sat on the shelf with all of his other mail next to the door. It felt like the box was staring him down more than the other way around.

 

It had all started almost a month and a half ago, in the group chat, which was a concept that Seto hadn’t even remotely considered he would ever be privy to in any hands on way. But Yugi had insisted if he was going to be part of “the gang” he would need to be added. (Seto tried to sneer at the fact that he still called it “the gang” at age 27 but he found his usual flippant disdain hard to access when it came to Yugi Muto) For better or worse, Yugi wanted Seto to be not only his friend but everyone else’s, all at the same time. Which seemed overall to be not only a colossal waste of time but an impossibly exhausting feat.

 

He mostly ignored the chat, having turned off notifications immediately after the messages began to flood his inbox. He read everything, usually all at once every few days, but rarely responded unless directly addressed or if plans to meet were being made. Wheeler — Joey, his mind corrected, (he was making a concerted effort to utilize more informal or “friendly” names at Yugi’s suggestion and it was a chore, especially with the loudmouthed blonde who used far too many emojis for a man pushing thirty.) remained the one who persistently tried to drag him into inane conversations, more so than Yugi who knew better than to push so early.

 

Joey’s goading came in the form of the classic taunts from their high school days: moneybags, rich boy and so on, now with the added arsenal of emojis shaped like cartoon bags of money, yen banknotes, and most obnoxiously a face with dollar sign eyes and green American dollar bills sticking out of its mouth.

 

Seto would occasionally tap out and send a generic stock jab in response, but more often than not he simply “left him on read” as Tristan called it, which was apparently considered much more insulting and at the very least didn't give Wheeler any new material to work with. It seemed to work most of the time, but all of the trouble that went into procuring that brown cardboard box had started when Wheeler — Joey, sent a flurry of dragon and eggplant emojis one day when Seto had refused to engage with his childish taunts.

 

Seto could admittedly be obtuse about certain things, it was no secret and he’d come to accept it, but he had a fairly good idea about what Joey was getting at. It was apparently the nerve he’d been swinging haphazardly for and finally hit. Seto’s jaw had clenched while he scrolled the chat in the middle of one of the workday’s many torturous meetings and he lost the battle against his better judgement, firing back a quick reply beneath the table.

 

_Wheeler, what in the world are you trying to say? Please use your words, if you can manage._

 

_Lol it’s nothing rich boy, just wondering if you were too busy organizing the wishlist on your Bad Dragon account to respond to Tea’s last video from New York._

 

_Get a room you two, as in a separate chat where you can snipe at each other all you want and I don’t have to get a million notifications about it._

 

Seto saw the three pulsating dots indicating another party was in the process of typing after Tea’s last message and closed the screen of his phone. He was sorely tempted to pitch it across the boardroom, but instead he opted to open his briefcase and shove it inside under the stacks of files and protype cards.

 

It wasn’t hard to put together what that twerp of an overgrown middle schooler was insinuating. It wasn’t even the first time he had played that particular card. But something about that phrasing, those words — Bad Dragon — became a splinter that dug its way into Seto’s skin and only burrowed deeper as he continued to pick at it over the next several days.

 

Seto wasn’t naive to the world of internet porn. He’d largely just ignored it, figuring he had more important things to do with his time. This made the fact that being the CEO of a multi-billion dollar children’s gaming company meant it was damn near impossible to search for anything online during his personal time that was remotely risque or adult without about a hundred different firewalls and layers of encryption a lot easier to deal with.

 

Truthfully, most of it didn’t interest him. There had been of course the bumbling, juvenile jumble of scattered search terms as a teen. “Gay anal”, “Cumshot”, “Blowjob”, “Ass eating” and a few other choice phrases he’d overheard in the locker room during gym class. They had all gone through rotation, but seldom yielded worthwhile results. No matter what he searched, it was always the same setup: some grizzled meathead pounding a lithe, pubescent looking waif into the mattress while calling him unpleasant names until he came and concluding with an ad for some low rent online game posing the challenge to “try not to cum”.

 

He’d burned through video after video, site after site, and it hadn’t been entirely unpleasant, but he grew bored quickly as he did with most things and forgot about bothering to access this content for months, even years at a time. Realistically, the need for this sort of thing had waned considerably post high school, not only because of his balancing hormones but due to his increasing responsibilities with KaibaCorp’s many projects. Over the years, when he did feel the urge, he eventually forwent the videos completely and prefered to rely on his own imagination.

 

Being a teenager of the early 2000’s, it was impossible as a Duel Monsters enthusiast, let alone a champion duelist with a mental catalogue of nearly every card, not to come across a certain category of websites dedicated to the game. Seto hadn’t exactly stumbled on the pictures, the wealth of fan generated images, but he hadn’t actively sought them out either. He knew they were bound to come across his screen eventually and after they did, though he would never save a single file or bookmark any sites, he knew where to go when he needed inspiration.

 

So there he was, some fifteen years later, sitting in front of his laptop in his home office alone with a cup of coffee, the words “Bad” and “Dragon” typed into the search bar, the enter key yet to be pressed. He’d indeed set up quite a few security precautions, used a personal computer separate from his usual one, and locked his office door and drew the blinds closed behind him. After clicking away to other more benign tasks in his browser for about twenty minutes, Seto sharply switched tabs and hit enter on the search bar like he’d ripped off a band aid.

 

He wasn’t exactly sure what he’d expected, but it wasn’t this. It wasn’t an overwhelmingly huge, full screen, high resolution splash page of silicone approximations of dragon penises. His instinct was to close the laptop, hard reset the drive, and dismantle and burn the whole thing, but he pressed onward. He’d cleared a rare two hour break between a conference call and a meeting with the hiring committee for the KaibaCorp social media division, and he was going to force himself to utilize it.

 

It was honestly, altogether, far too much to take in. There were too many links, too many unknown terms, and too many possibilities. Seto clicked the first familiar word he saw on the menu — “Dildos”, and took a sip of coffee. He instantly regretted the coffee when the page loaded and he burned the tip of his tongue.

 

“Dildos: Put these where you please,” the header had read. It was still too much, but at least the product was clearly labeled and displayed, and each item was individually named in theme with the company’s branding. As he clicked through the links, he was struck by the fluid and user friendly nature of the site’s navigation. He regretted that there was absolutely no feasible way to contact the web designers to poach talent from their team without everyone on the planet finding out Seto Kaiba, KaibaCorp CEO and world famous Duelist, had accessed Bad-dragon.com, but he did take a few notes on his legal pad.

 

The garish colors and patterns of the toys in the preview images were mostly off putting to Seto and some of the shapes were, well, alarming in a way that frankly made his ass hurt just looking at them. He appreciated the high level of customization, particularly the size comparison feature which he would certainly have to find a way to covertly borrow from. He’d been so largely consumed for the better part of his allotted time with just how impressive the interface of the site was, that he’d forgotten the implicit sexual nature of what he was looking at.

 

That was, until he’d clicked over to the toy tastefully named “Kelvin”. Seto had neglected to read the descriptions for any of the products up until now, but the words on the page for “Kelvin” drew him in and he scrolled away from the preview images to read.

 

_Sit back, relax and get ready to warm up to Kelvin. The coolest dragon of the bunch, you’ll find Kelvin’s icy exterior will make you melt once you get to know its many pleasure-inducing features. From its spade-shaped tip that gradually slips its way into any cave, to its tantalizing ridges that run along its gently curved shaft, get ready to shiver in anticipation at Kelvin’s sensation-filled ride. Finishing you off with a thick, hearty bulge, you may find you can’t help but howl after you’ve had your way with this one._

 

It wasn’t until he’d reached the latter half of the description that claimed “Kelvin the Ice Dragon” was “Perfectly suited for beginners through to more advanced pleasure-seekers”, that Seto became aware of the hardened tent that had formed in the front of his neatly pressed slacks. He looked at the clock — forty minutes until he was supposed to be at a meeting listening to some bright eyed early twenty-somethings yammer about trends and hashtags and impressions.

 

He’d never be able to live with himself if he missed a meeting because he had gotten distracted browsing dragon themed dildos on the internet, so he had to handle this situation quickly before he even considered standing up to get his coat and car keys. There was no time to make the usual preparations, so Seto pushed back his chair and unclipped his belt buckle, pulled down his zipper, and unceremoniously freed his stiffened cock from his dark briefs and pants.

 

This was business, not pleasure, Seto reminded himself and he tried to make quick work of it. He looked up to check the clock as he pumped his hand — thirty five minutes left, so he figured he should probably wrap it up under the next five — and caught the shape of “Kelvin” in the corner of his eye. His focus drew towards the delicate curves and sharp ridges of the toy in the preview image and he felt a sudden crescendo, then spilled over his hand immediately. He would have to risk being a minute or two outside of the meeting’s start time, as he now had to change clothes.

 

Seto cleaned up with several tissues from the desk and hurriedly moved to his bedroom down the hall to change pants. He’d been ready to head out the front door when he noticed he’d left the laptop open in his office, still open the the Bad Dragon website. He rushed to close the browser and shut down, but his gaze was caught on the preview image, on “Kelvin”, again. He swore under his breath and quickly bookmarked the page before snapping the laptop shut and turning for the door.

  


He’d gotten home late that same evening after two more meetings and a long, infuriating detour when he’d had to lecture and instruct his new batch of interns in great detail on the myriad ways in which they had made as mess of and needed to fix the proposal he’d thought would be a simple enough introductory task, but was clearly beyond the capabilities of their apparently useless Bachelor degrees. Only one of them cried, which Seto counted as progress. He’d ordered him to go home and after painstakingly picking apart the abysmal presentation and finally putting the interns back in the driver’s seat, still managing to find a hundred tasks that needed to be handled before he could dream of going back to his apartment.

 

Seto had dropped his briefcase on the living room floor and ditched his jacket and tie somewhere along the way to his bedroom, but stopped in front of the door to his office. He rolled his eyes and grabbed the laptop from his desk and trudged back down the hall, tossing the laptop onto the mattress and falling flat on his stomach with his face in the pillows right after, still fully clothed. He laid still for a few seconds then groaned and kicked off his shoes. He turned over and dragged the laptop towards him, and opened up Bad-dragon.com while reaching for his wallet.

 

After a few decisive clicks, Seto closed the laptop, flipped the switch on his bedside lamp and planted his face back into the pillows. His last thought before he lost consciousness was that he’d have to invest in a decent lock box before Mokuba came to visit for the holidays.

 

That was a little over a month ago. He’d selected the base international shipping option; it was a made-to-order item and needed about four weeks to be manufactured and shipped. What was another two to four days? The weeks rolled on and the work never ended, so when the box did finally arrive at an undisclosed warehouse property technically owned by one of KaibaCorp’s many subsidiaries, the notification came as a surprise.

 

Seto acknowledged when he picked up the package personally the day he’d gotten the shipping confirmation, mixed in with many other less incriminating deliveries, that even for him these were extreme measures for something so trivial that he now realized he may only use once and then have to go through an entirely different process of finding a way to dispose of. Unfortunately he’d never been very good at letting things go, and once an idea grabbed hold it was impossible not to turn it over and over in his mind until it drove him nearly insane.

 

He arrived at his apartment late as usual that evening and placed the box on the metal shelf by the door of his office, and crossed the room to sit behind his desk and focus on more important tasks. Seto worked in silence for a few hours, pausing only to answer the door for the delivery of his late dinner which he ate in front of a glowing screen of spreadsheets like most of his meals. The awareness of what sat on the shelf mere feet away from him was like a heavy presence, more nagging than tempting.

 

It was 2AM. He’d done about all he could do for the night without calling his assistant and the budgeting team, and he’d long since promised in writing he would no longer do so past 10PM or on the weekends. Seto considered proofreading the reports he’d been over at least a dozen times since this morning. He looked at the box again. For a second he pictured flinging it off of his balcony into the Sumida River, but then there was the chance it could wash up where some impressionable minor could find it and well,

 

Seto took the special edition, KaibaCorp exclusive Monster Reborn themed letter opener from his drawer, closed his laptop and headed for the bedroom, the box finally in hand. He closed the door behind him and locked it, despite the obvious lack of any necessary reason. Seto stood over the bed and set the box down on the mattress, and deciding he had wasted enough time, cut through the packing tape.

 

It had been such a long month for a lot of reasons, and he hadn’t given more than a passing thought to that night’s purchase, that Seto wasn’t even sure what he was expecting. He pushed the purple tissue paper aside and there it was. It looked more or less exactly the same as the preview image had while it spun slowly in 3D rendering, texture notwithstanding.

 

Seto put down the letter opener and removed the toy from its box. It was heavier than he’d expected, but the weight was pleasing and the touch was smooth. The key features were all there: the flared base, the gentle upward curve of the shaft, the non-threatening but promising ridges lined up in a neat pattern, and the tapered spade of its tip. Seto frowned in concentration and turned the toy in his hands.

 

His specifications were all accounted for as well: the medium firmness, the size, (he’d chosen the smallest option, which in his opinion based on the size comparison tool was large enough especially for a beginner, and it managed for him to border on approachable but still intimidating), and in an odd way maybe most importantly, the color.

 

There had been so many options to preview in regards to color including marble, metallic, glitter, glow in the dark, and pearlescent finishes. None of these appealed to Seto. He’d clicked around a little but ultimately it took less than five minutes to make up his mind. The panel of color swatches had been overwhelming but once he’d taken a moment to form an image in his mind it had only take a few clicks. A simple fade, from a goldenrod base to a tip in the pale golden shade labelled “coconut”.

 

The particular image that pushed impatiently to the forefront of his thoughts as he’d stared at the color customization feature and made his final decision had been crafted over years of daydreaming during boring school lessons while doodling mindlessly in the margins of his notebooks, idly browsing dozens of artist interpretations both professional and amateur, and countless nights spent sweating under sheets chasing any rare source of release. It was the same image he held in his mind now, perfectly formed and easily accessed as ever.

 

Within the hour Seto was sitting on the bed in a plush bathrobe with his back against the headboard, propped up by several pillows with more waiting nearby if necessary. The enema hadn’t taken long as this wasn’t his first dalliance with a toy, and though it wasn’t a frequent occurrence it was easy enough to go through the motions. He sat back and positioned and repositioned his hips, his legs, his shoulders, for several minutes until he finally resorted to punching a pillow in frustration.

 

Why the hell was this so difficult? It wasn’t as if it was the first time, he lived alone, and he was almost thirty god damned years old. He looked over at the toy waiting on the bedside table next to a bottle of expensive lube and then down at his crotch where his cock certainly lay flaccid, though you wouldn’t know it due to the thick robe.

 

The robe was haphazardly shrugged off and thrown on the floor next to the bed in a heap and Seto mechanically slicked his fingers with the lube, forcefully not thinking about the action. He sat back resolutely against the headboard, shifted his hips down and bent his knees, and took his limp dick in hand.

 

He pulled, slow and languid at first, and resisted the ever persistent instinct to over analyze and process literally everything in the entire fucking world — the rarity of going more than the few seconds between the shower and a bath towel naked, the millions of things he prioritized over even the simplest of pleasures, the infrequent and sporadic moments where he wondered what people did and said on dates that got them from the restaurant to the bedroom.

 

None of that mattered right now. None of it was going to help him reach his goal before the end of the night — before the fucking sun came up and he had to go to fucking work. In fact, it was just going to do the opposite. So he shut out all of the noise and focused instead on Ancient Dragon.

 

Seto wasn’t sure why this monster in particular was the one to stick out, even after all these years. If anything could be said of the menagerie of Duel Monsters it was that there was no shortage of dragons. He had guessed that Blue Eyes would have been the one most people — people like that idiot _Wheeler_ — would have assumed was his go to. For whatever reason, it wasn’t. The art he’d seen and the images his own imagination had conjured never had the same pull as Ancient Dragon. He’d given less thought to his draw towards this specific monster than he had his usual daily coffee order.

 

Maybe it was the classic high fantasy design, clearly pulling from more medieval European art and lore, or the expert handling of color and texture in the original card image that most of the fan artists (the good ones anyway) emulated, or maybe it was the impressive rendering of light and shadow cast by the moonlit night that carved out the dragon’s muscular thighs and chest, or the broad wingspan and powerful arms that ended in three long sharp claws —

 

Seto was suddenly very aware that he was very hard. He thought he could have come from the relief that realization brought alone. But there was no going back now, he had to let the momentum take him before he lost his nerve. He continued to stroke up and down his length, spreading the lube he had collected with a cupped palm and squeezing fingers. He reached with his free hand for the open bottle and spread more liquid on his fingers, shifting his hips further down the bed.

 

It was easy enough to work a finger or two into his ass within a few minutes; he’d done enough of that since his discovery of the concept to know what needed to be done. He scissored his fingers and wound them in tight circles against the inside of his rim, and quickened the pace of his tightly gripped hand. The image of Ancient Dragon burned boldly now behind his eyes, bright as midday sun. It was clear and within reach, but not yet solidly in his grasp. Seto looked to the side table and took Kelvin in his hand, aligning the blunt and tapered end of the toy with the entrance of his well prepared hole.

 

The visualization, or rather at this point the almost tangible sensation, of standing in the presence of such raw and unknowable power as was possessed by Ancient Dragon formed completely now in a way Seto hadn’t realized was missing from the fantasy before. He imagined looking up at the dragon’s gaping maw full of teeth as big and sharp as carving knives, its forked tongue slithering in and out to taste the air, and the waves of hot breath against his skin that could so easily turn to fire and incinerate him in an instant.

 

He felt the scales of the dragon’s massive neck under his palms, so cold that they burned but he couldn’t pull his hands away if he’d wanted to. The scale plating constantly shifted with the dragon’s every breath, muscles rippling beneath the surface. Seto pressed his naked body into the dragon’s armor, the simultaneous cold and heat and the jagged scales against every inch of him like dying and coming alive all at once.

 

The dragon folded its wings around him, the light from the moon diffused through its golden leathery skin. There was an all encompassing sense of relief and freedom in the embrace of the dragon’s wings. The world outside didn’t matter. It couldn’t see him, couldn’t touch him. The heavy burdens of responsibility and duty and image and prestige were lifted here. They didn’t even exist for Seto anymore. This was the dragon’s kingdom, and here it possessed all the power. It had the power to kill or let live, to protect or destroy. To give pleasure or pain.

 

Seto shivered and held on tightly as the dragon’s tongue snaked along his bare back and the blunt tip of its cock pressed into him. The stretch and burn that was normally something to be tolerated was thrilling here instead. He pressed tighter against the undulating scales, like trying to disappear. He ground his hips hungrily into the burning cold and chased the edge of ecstasy, knowing the dragon may very well devour him whole when it was all over.

 

So be it. There were worse ways to go.

 

The dragon pushed deeper inside of Seto’s body, and once fully sheathed it began to move in and out. The ridges along its shaft rubbed mercilessly inside of him and the spade-like head curved up to press against something acutely sensitive in Seto he’d never known was there, never thought might be there. It felt like a wire wound so tight that it snapped, over and over and over again.

 

The dragon’s pace quickened and Seto was more filled and stretched than he could have previously imagined was possible until the pressure was unrelenting and the blissful revelry in the sensation overtook all conscious thought and rationality and suddenly without warning something shifted and it was like falling off of a steep mountain top taller than anything on the planet and it didn’t matter what the landing was like because nothing could tarnish the bright, white hot light of how fucking good this felt.  

 

Seto came in sudden spurts, the hot fluid splashing against his bare legs and stomach and the expensive duvet he was definitely going to have to replace. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he panted, his bones turned to jelly and his legs stretching out shakily. The toy slipped from his loose hole and lay next to him on the mattress. He was grateful that he’d discarded the bathrobe away from the bed where it was safe from his messy release.

 

After a hot shower and dutifully cleaning the toy which was no longer of concern for disposal, Seto stepped out onto his balcony in his robe and lit a cigarette. He took a long drag and breathed out smoke into the cool night air. He reluctantly fished out his cell phone from the pocket of his robe to check on the outside world, flicking away the several notifications that had piled up — emails and memos and documents in need of approval that could all wait until tomorrow. There was something else among the digital clutter he didn’t expect, however.

 

He had nine missed messages from Joey Wheeler in his inbox. Not from the group chat, but individual direct messages sent only to Seto. He narrowed his eyes and took the cigarette between his lips as he opened the messages.

 

_Hey_

 

_Hey moneybags_

 

_Kaiba_

 

_Hey Kaiba_

 

_Earth to rich boy_

 

_Blue Eyes White Dragon is overrated and Star Wars is better than Star Trek_

 

_Sorry that was too far, I take it back my bad_

 

_Except the second part that is true_

 

_Hey you up or not?_

 

Seto ground his teeth. Wheeler. It was like he knew, which of course he couldn’t have, but the timing was certainly uncanny. This was all his fault to begin with. Seto held his cigarette between his left index and middle fingers and typed back.

 

_This had better be important, Wheeler._

 

The three dots inside their ominous speech bubble floated up and Seto took a long drag. Whoever came up with those damn dots should be drawn and quartered, he was certain.

 

_Geez lighten up will ya? Anyway I’m in your neck of the woods, I got stood up by some jackass and I’m not wasting the night off but I’m stuck out here alone. Anyway I’m drinking to celebrate dodging that roided out bullet, wanna meet up?_

 

Seto stared at the words until they lost all discernible meaning. Why on earth would Joey Wheeler ask him to spend time alone together at a bar, without Yugi, Tea, Mai, Tristan or even that spooky Bakura guy as a buffer? It could very well be some stupid prank. It probably was.

 

After taking a final decisive puff, Seto jabbed the remainder of the cigarette into the ashtray at his side and typed a response. He figured he’d owed Joey that much. This was again, entirely his fault

 

_Where?_


	2. 2 Bad 2 Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a disappointing night out, Joey took one of his trademark wild leaps and sent Kaiba what amounted to a booty call. It was a slim chance, but he'd had pretty good luck so far in life and what was the worst that could happen, getting called a dweeb for the upteenth time? But the absolute last thing he expected was for Kaiba to actually show up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is an extended smoking scene towards the end as well as a brief reference to Joey smoking weed, so if that's not your jam you may want to skip this one. Otherwise, enjoy!

_Where?_

 

Joey stared at the black text against the stark white background on his phone. He’d never been much of a lightweight so it’d taken a couple drinks to get him to tipsy territory, and his vision was starting to blur a little around the edges. But there was no way he was drunk enough yet to be mistaken — Seto Kaiba had more or less agreed to meet him spontaneously at a downtown bar at 3 AM.

 

_Here’s the address. It’s the joint with the neon rooster in the window, can’t miss it. It’s after hours but I ain’t waitin’ around all night so hurry your ass up. You got fifteen minutes._

 

_Fine._

 

Fine? What the hell did that mean, fine? Joey shot back the last gulp of his beer and waved over the bartender for another, ignoring his nagging conscience that warned him about the stroke he’d have once he saw the tab. Fine was… fine. He tried not to think about it too much past a confirmation that within fifteen minutes Kaiba may or may not come through the front door of this overpriced yuppie bar.

 

Joey took his replacement beer from the counter where the bartender had set it down and knocked it back, then opened up his message thread with Mai. He typed a few false starts, and after deleting about the fourth scrambled attempt he cleared the message field without having sent anything and shoved his phone back in his pocket.

 

He didn’t know why he’d been so suddenly determined to harass Kaiba into meeting with him tonight. That wasn’t entirely true. He didn’t know the exact reason, but there were a few probabilities that were technically all true if he was being totally honest with himself.

 

Probability one: He’d had a long week between work and night classes and needed to blow off some steam, and Tristan, Serenity, Yugi, Tea, Mai and even Bakura were all busy elsewhere. He had a rare free night with which to do whatever he pleased and it seemed a shame to waste the whole thing smoking weed, playing video games and jerking off before passing out on the couch. He could do that any night, and he had. Too much since starting the school/work juggle, he thought.

 

Probability two: He’d had a bad date and needed a distraction, which usually meant drinking, and he avoided drinking alone as much as possible because drinking alone, unlike getting stoned alone, is objectively fucking depressing.

 

This probability was the closest to what he’d told Kaiba. He had indeed taken the night off and come to this part of town for a date but he hadn’t been stood up. The date happened all right, and it was a nightmare. Boring, awkward and rife with cliche, and the guy had a pet bird for Christ’s sake. Bird guys were always the fucking weirdest.

 

It ended with his date getting too handsy too fast on the smoker’s patio when Joey was obviously beyond uninterested and he’d popped him one in the jaw like a scandalized Southern lady, but it was more of a stiff uppercut than a slap with a lacey glove. Thankfully the guy was either too embarrassed or knew better than to push a fight and just wordlessly hopped the low gate, slinking off into the dark with his head hung and his hand rubbing his sore face. It must have been Joey’s lucky night too because the bouncer didn’t even see, which worked out great as it allowed him to turn back inside and order a cold beer to ice his slightly bruised hand.

 

Probability three: His least favorite, the last one he wanted to admit was a possible factor, and the most likely. He was alone. He was sad. And he was horny. He’d sifted through his contacts passing up names like “Gym guy beard”, “Gym guy redhead”, “Starbucks guy Shibuya”, and “Lab partner”. The lab partner had been his last resort candidate because there were still three weeks left in the semester, and as for the others...

 

Well for whatever reason (Joey chose to blame it on the alcohol, always an easy excuse) he’d scrolled past Kaiba’s name, going through the full list at least three or four rounds, and each time Kaiba’s name jumped out. He could have said fuck it and pulled up any number of the gym idiots, sent an obvious “wyd”, forgone the drinks, hopped in a cab and got what he needed all in time to book it back home to crash in his clothes before the sun was even up. He’d certainly done it before.

 

It was weird, thinking of Kaiba as an acquaintance and maybe, in certain circumstances, as a friend. He couldn’t think of one kind word that had been spoken between them besides the barest niceties such as “pass the ketchup” at Burger World. (Still a crazy image — Seto Kaiba driving up to fucking _Burger World_ in a black Lamborghini Aventador S like he was the goddamn Batman and coming inside to sit with people he definitely at several points had previously tried to kill.)

 

It got easier with each group hang, but still felt sometimes like sitting across the table from a snarling rottweiler trained specifically to bite your individual head off.

 

Yugi, in typical Yugi fashion, had continued to see the best in Kaiba from the beginning, when it was impossible for Joey to come up with a single redeeming quality in the guy. Yugi was the best person Joey knew, probably the best of anybody in the world, and he was a damn amazing judge of character. If Yugi saw something in Kaiba worth the trouble, Joey figured there had to be something there.

 

But no matter how many times Joey had offered the olive branch, Kaiba always found a way to snap it in half. Most people probably would have stopped offering, but most people weren’t as tenacious as Joey Wheeler. He figured Kaiba was the only asshole on the planet more stubborn than he was and for some reason he couldn’t keep from trying to hassle the guy into friendship.

 

He could, however, pinpoint where he’d become resolute in his continued persistence all that time, between seeing Kaiba’s giant mouth cackling on every TV screen and jumbotron in Domino damn near weekly and watching him locked with Yugi in duel after duel, sometimes to the literal death.

 

It was the moment when he’d seen the look on Mokuba’s face and the way he jumped into Kaiba’s arms, after he returned from having his soul banished to that desolate shadow dimension. (It sounded pretty surreal and fucked up when put into so many words) He immediately recognized the weight of the emotion in his big tear-filled eyes. It was the same look Serenity had when she saw Joey for the first time in seven years.

 

He hadn’t forgotten any of the crazy bullshit Kaiba had put them all through. But he did feel like he saw a glimpse of Kaiba he hadn’t before. Not Kaiba the narcissistic, power-hungry megalomaniac he thought he knew but a different Kaiba entirely. He saw Seto Kaiba, a 16 year old kid just like him, and an older brother who’d do whatever it took, no matter how reckless and stupid and with no concern for the catastrophic consequences, to protect his younger brother who he loved more than anything. It was admirable, and it was sweet. And it was, admittedly, kinda hot.

 

It wasn’t as if he’d never thought of Kaiba in That Way before, though he wouldn’t say it out loud, not even to Tristan. Not even to Mai, though he was pretty sure she knew something was up. Kaiba was selfish, rude, bitterly sarcastic, overly defensive, and humorless. He was the absolute worst know it all with an annoying laugh, a sore loser even at Mario Kart, and then there was the whole grandpa kidnapping and repeated attempted murder everybody seemed to like to forget.

 

There was no shortage of reasons not to think of Kaiba in That Way. There was a mountain of well-documented and quantifiable proof that pointed to Kaiba being a completely irredeemable asshole not worth Joey’s time of day, versus the much smaller pile of evidence to the contrary.

 

Versus the fact that he was actually, maybe, in his own weirdo loner way trying to be a friend, and the sporadic moments where it seemed like might actually enjoy something other than winning, especially when he managed to crack a smile at one of Yugi’s jokes. There was also the low rumble of his voice when he wasn’t cackling or screaming during a duel, the cool dark blue of his eyes, the sharp angles of his jaw and cheekbones that on anybody else would end up on the cover of expensive fashion magazines, his large hands with slender fingers, those absurdly long legs practically vacuum sealed in tight black material that would probably be better served on a runway than his stupid blimp, or even the way his big stupid coat swished —

 

Anyway.

 

Joey had been banking on getting laid tonight, and Kaiba was an option he’d considered but hadn’t yet pursued. For obvious reasons. He didn’t actually know a lot about the guy (he was absolutely, definitely gay and there was no need to spare a moment’s worry debating that) but he figured it was worth a shot in the dark, even if it was severely unlikely that this would go anywhere positive, let alone result in a hookup. What did he have to lose? His dignity, probably. But the potential gains were a temptation he was tired of trying to ignore.

 

He’d thought about all of this when he tapped on Kaiba’s name and sent nine of the most annoying messages possible within the span of twenty minutes. He knew Kaiba was dense as a brick but he hoped he wasn’t too oblivious to get the picture. It was entirely possible.

 

Within fifteen minutes, almost to the second, a sharp elbow jabbed into Joey’s back and he turned to stare down whatever obnoxious drunk jackass was too stupid to pay attention to where they were going and found Kaiba, towering and sneering in a black turtleneck and charcoal gray peacoat at the obnoxious drunk jackass who had rammed into him causing his arm to knock into Joey.

 

“Hey, took ya long enough. Sit down moneybags, I know you’d pick a fight at a kid’s birthday party but this ain’t worth your time and I waited on your slow ass long enough. What d’you wanna drink?”

 

Kaiba unbuttoned his coat and folded his awkward giraffe legs to sit at the bar next to Joey while he prepared to flag down the bartender again. He watched Kaiba’s eyes narrow at the drink specials scrawled in chalk on the board behind the counter, apparently unimpressed. He’d been about to make a suggestion when the bartender acknowledged Joey to take his order.

 

“Uh, I’ll do another Guinness, shocker I know. And what about you, rich boy? You make up your mind yet?”

 

“Gin and tonic, no lime.” His reply was quick and his voice clipped. Apparently he’d been so underwhelmed by the drink specials he decided on something basic but appropriately fussy for what Joey expected of Kaiba.

 

The bartender made a face at the request for no lime but he grabbed Joey’s beer and slid it over after popping the cap and quickly mixed Kaiba’s drink. He set it down on the bar in front of Kaiba who stared down blankly at the glass while reaching for his wallet.

 

“Nah, this one’s on me. I’m celebratin’, remember?” Joey said and ignored Kaiba’s pointed glare to give a nod to the bartender. Kaiba opened his mouth to protest but Joey cut him off before he could finish the first angry syllable.

 

“Put it on my tab. My buddy here’s not so good in the manners department you’ll have to excuse him. He was raised by wolves.”

 

Joey watched the bartender turn away unphased by his sparkling wit and raised his bottle at Kaiba for a toast, but he found his focus was elsewhere. He’d returned his gaze downward towards the glass, staring at it like a math problem.

 

“Aw c’mon Kaiba what’s the matter? They left the lime off your granny drink just the way you like.”

 

Kaiba’s forehead wrinkled, or at least what little Joey could see of it below the thick curtain of bangs he’d had since high school and probably before.

 

“There are only two ice cubes in this drink.”

 

“So?”

 

“It’s a gin and tonic.”

 

“And?”

 

“And, without enough ice cubes, it’s not going to stay cold enough and the two they did put in here are going to melt and water down the alcohol. It’s already melting now.”

 

Joey nodded sagely and cleared his throat.

 

“HEY CAN SOMEBODY GET SETO KAIBA SOME MORE ICE CUBES, C’MON GUYS THIS IS SETO KAIBA WE’RE TALKING ABOUT HERE HE NEEDS EXTRA ICE FOR HIS GRANDMA DRINK BECAUSE HE’S A GRANDMA — ”

 

 _“Wheeler will you please shut up,”_ Kaiba hissed.

 

“Seriously, it can’t be that bad. You haven’t even tried it.”

 

“I don’t need to try it, I know.” Kaiba gritted.

 

Joey rolled his eyes and groaned exaggeratedly. Only Kaiba would turn his nose up at a drink in one of the few pricier bars Joey ever bothered going to without having taken a single sip. Kaiba gestured at the drink with an exasperated expression and Joey picked up the glass to take a decently sized sip of the drink.

 

“Oh no, yeah this is very bad. HEY BARTENDER — ”

 

“Shut up, Wheeler. It’s fine.”

 

“Hey, I bought this rat piss with my own hard earned money and if I wanna complain about it it’s my goddamn right. I pay my taxes, d’you? Wait, do you? Because that’s somethin’ I’ve actually been wondering about. Tristan and I have a bet. See he thinks — “

 

Kaiba reached out and turned the bottle in Joey’s hand to read the label. His fingers brushed against Joey's and they were still cold from the outside, and probably poor circulation. Didn’t long-necked dinosaurs need more than one heart to pump blood up to their brains? He was pretty sure he’d read that someplace, or Rex Raptor had told him during one of his weed-induced dinosaur rants.

 

“What are you drinking?” Kaiba asked.

 

“Uh, Guinness. Extra stout.”

 

Kaiba stared at him, hand still on the bottle, like he’d said something in a language he didn’t understand. It only took a beat for Joey to realize for Kaiba he might as well have.

 

“Beer. It’s an Irish beer, pretty dark. Kinda sweet. I like it, and this is one of the only places around that has it. You wanna try?”

 

Kaiba’s dark eyes, intense even behind long lashes ( _Get a hold of yourself Joey it’s been like five minutes_ ) darted between the label and Joey’s face. He pulled the beer from Joey’s hand as he released his fingers from the neck of the bottle.

 

Joey had been expecting a dignified sip, the kind someone like Seto Kaiba would have given a gin and tonic. But to his surprise, Kaiba tipped the bottle back and swallowed — gulped, even. Definitely not dignified, and his Adam’s apple bobbed in a way that made Joey’s mouth water slightly.

 

“So? It’s probably too dark for you, how often d’you ever drink anything but clear liquor? I can’t exactly imagine Seto Kaiba on his Blue Eyes yacht tossing back brewskies — “

 

“I want one.”

 

“What?”

 

“I said, I want one. It’s good and I want one.”

 

“Oh. Uh, take mine I’m already three deep. I’ll order another in a second I just gotta get our friend’s attention again. Shouldn’t take long, I’m his favorite customer and I’m pretty sure he’s sweet on me.”

 

Kaiba said nothing and again to Joey’s great surprise curled his fingers around the bottle and took another gulp. This time he was a little more reserved, but it was still a bizarre sight to take in. Joey flagged down the bartender who was definitely under no uncertain terms pleased to take his business.

 

So that was how Joey Wheeler found himself drinking Guinness at a neon-lit after hours bar with Seto Kaiba. If somebody would have told him he’d eventually end up here 12 years ago, hell if they’d have said it last month, he would have laughed straight in their face. But here they were, with Joey now a couple more beers in and Kaiba starting to catch up, not exactly blood brothers or even friends but two people who could find something they shared in common and not try to kill each other for five minutes. They found a surprising number of things to to talk about, including KaibaCorp's current initiative to make some pretty exciting new Duel Disk modifications and eventually leading to Joey updating Kaiba on his recent return to the classroom.

 

“Yeah, so the lecture’s a real snooze but I like the readings. It’s better than Stats and Data Analysis, anyway.”

 

“I didn’t know you — "

 

“Could read? Shocking, I know.”

 

“I didn’t know you were in school.”

 

“Oh. Uh, yeah. Social work. I just started and it’s been a bitch getting back into keeping on top of assignments. Not that I did a whole lot of that back a hundred years ago in high school to begin with but it’s different with college, cuz I actually care about this shit, you know?”

 

Kaiba’s fingers fidgeted around the neck of his beer bottle and he put it to his lips, pausing to speak before finishing it off.

 

“I didn’t go to college.”

 

Maybe it was the now several beers Joey had downed or the hint of regret in Kaiba’s voice, but he felt a slight twinge in his chest. He hadn’t really considered at all what Kaiba might have been up to in his personal life since all the death games, virtual reality antics and ancient Egyptian prophecies.

 

He’d see him sporadically on TV announcing some new VR feature or glaring icily down his nose from the cover of Forbes at the grocery store but up until the moment a few months ago when Yugi announced he wanted to bring Kaiba into the fold like a stray, he hadn’t thought twice about what he actually did in his day to day. Largely he hadn’t been thinking about Kaiba doing anything but acting as the maniacal Monopoly Man caricature he knew him as. He hadn’t been thinking about Kaiba as a person.

 

“Eh, you ain’t missin’ much. It’s mostly boring and none of the teachers are hot. Except Dr. Akagi, he’s a dilf.”

 

“A what?”

 

“Nothin’, don’t worry about it. Hey, you smoke?”

 

“Yes,”

 

“How’d I know? Damn, I’m good. Anyway I’m gonna take a leak, you order up a couple more and meet me on the patio, yeah? And I want some of whatever fancy bullshit you’re smoking. You probably get ‘em imported, Treasurer or Black Russians dipped in gold and shit. God you’re such a nerd you probably have a giant monogrammed lighter, with a big ‘KC’ in fuckin’ cursive.”

 

“Dunhill. And it’s a Zippo.”

 

Kaiba glowered and reached into his pocket, and sure enough in the center of his broad palm there was a small silver Zippo lighter. It was shockingly understated and engraved with a tasteful etching of a Blue Eyes White Dragon’s head, silhouetted in profile. Joey had to admit it was pretty cool looking, but he tried not to let it show on his face.

 

“Hm. Dunhill’s ain’t bad. Get the beers and I’ll see ya outside.”

 

Joey turned on his heel and headed for the bathroom. He did actually have to pee but mainly he just needed an excuse to splash water on his face (which was starting to feel numb) and come up with a gameplan. He hadn’t counted on actually _talking_ to Kaiba tonight let alone enjoying anything he had to say. It helped that Kaiba had gone more than five minutes without calling him a dweeb.

 

Joey did acknowledge as he stood over the sink that he hadn’t exactly been nice to Kaiba either, with the constant teasing about his helmet of a haircut and obvious dragon boner. It just felt easy, and predictable, trading jabs with Kaiba. It felt safe. He tried not to think too hard about that and ran a hand under the faucet to scrub down his face, then grabbed a paper towel to dry off.

 

He stared at the fuzzy, swimming reflection in the mirror in silence with the music and chatter of the bar thumping through the wall. (Why was it always when you were alone in the bathroom that you realized just how drunk you were?) Under the red neon glow of the overhead lights, he studied his features and tried to process.

 

Comparatively, he looked rough. He’d been blessed with boyband good looks and a smile punctuated by a dimple that had gotten him out of countless tight spots since he first figured out how to turn the charm on his preschool teachers. But when he studied the the warm brown of his eyes that every single hookup or date just had to mention at least once, it wasn’t enough to distract from the heavy bags underneath. He’d always had them, hereditary he guessed, but they’d deepened with age and accumulative years of sleep deficit.

 

He’d spent even more time than usual on his hair thanks to the block of time he’d freed up for this evening. He tried to make it look effortless, but the reality of what went into his signature look was far from it. A lot of time, effort and product went into this hair. Somehow though, it still seemed thinner than usual (getting old was murder) and the shape was all wrong. He messed with it a little, tweaking here and there, until he ruffled it in frustration with a groan.

 

What did he care if his hair looked like shit? Kaiba sure as hell didn’t. This had been a really, incredibly, colossally stupid idea. Even for him. He didn’t even know what to say to Kaiba to get the ball rolling towards a hookup and his usual maneuvers wouldn’t work here.

 

Yeah Kaiba had shown up in a New York minute to meet him alone at a bar in the middle of the night, technically early morning, with no apparently justifiable or respectable reason. But all he’d done so far was complain about the drinks and talk and although it hadn’t been bad, maybe it was even enjoyable, talking to Kaiba and getting buzzed, it was pretty clear he really was completely oblivious to the fact that this had started as a booty call.

 

Maybe it was for the best. It would probably throw off the whole balance of the group, whether he did actually go home with Kaiba (What kind of place did he live in now that he was out of the Kaiba mansion? Joey pictured something Batcave-adjacent) or if he made a move that went nowhere. The gang would eventually find out and he’d never hear the end of it. Yeah, this was good. This was fine. He’d go back out, wrap things up with Kaiba over one of his fancy cigarettes, and head home without having caused any irreparable damage to the group dynamic. Joey wadded up the paper towel and shot for the trash can — nothing but net.

 

He made his way back up the hall towards the bar, noticeably a bit more wobbly, and pushed past some guys wrapped up in each other and making out like they were in a corny music video. He looked at his watch on the way to close out his tab, trying to focus on the blurry numbers. It was nearing 4 AM, way past what he imagined Kaiba’s bedtime to be. From what he could tell, realistically the guy probably didn’t sleep much and when he did he could easily imagine him hanging upside down like a bat or in a coffin, but it was way funnier to imagine him tucked in his Blue Eyes shaped bed at 11 PM in matching Blue Eyes footie pajamas.

 

Joey had to hold in an idiotic giggle while he signed for the tab, purposefully ignoring the total line and leaving an arbitrary tip amount he would definitely regret when he woke up later, if the hangover didn’t kill him first. Shit. He was drunk, officially. How the hell did it always manage to sneak up on him like that? He pushed the front door open and stood bracing against the cold with his breath coming out in short puffs of vapor, looking over the heads of his fellow smokers for Kaiba.

 

Kaiba had wasted no time sparking up and was standing with his back to the crowd, pointy shoulders hunched against the wind and facing the busy street. He was leaning against the wall on his left side with two beer bottles clutched against his body, lifting a glowing cigarette to his pink lips, with his eyes scrunched shut.

 

“Hey Kaiba, you okay there?”

 

“I’m fine,” came the terse reply. He didn’t open his eyes.

 

“Haha, you’re drunk.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Me too, congrats and welcome to the party. You got my beer?”

 

Kaiba turned towards Joey and wordlessly held out the beer for him to take. He reached out and put a hand on the bottle, over Kaiba’s own hand snug inside of a black leather driving glove which was so typically Kaiba, it came back around from annoying to endearing. Who was the real dweeb here, anyway?

 

“I mean it though, are you okay? You got me kinda worried. I don’t actually wanna be the guy that got Seto Kaiba killed as hard as that may be for you to believe, and I ain’t got the scratch for a lawyer.”

 

“I said, I’m fine.”

 

Kaiba’s eyes, now open and staring, were glassy and softened from their usual intensity. He was definitely very drunk and very embarrassed about it. He still looked a little like he could unhinge his jaw and bite Joey’s head off at any second but the flush across his severe features was annoyingly, disgustingly cute. Joey sidled up next to Kaiba against the wall and nodded at the cigarette between his fingers.

 

“So? You gonna share or what, rich boy?”

 

Kaiba placed his cigarette between his lips to hold and tucked his own beer under his arm. He pulled a silver cigarette case with a Blue Eyes motif that matched his Zippo from within his coat and opened the latch to reveal a neat row of cigarettes minus the few he’d already smoked. A litany of insults and taunts perched on the tip of Joey’s tongue, just the usual fare about what an uptight nerd Kaiba was and how he’d definitely researched the logistics of marrying a Duel Monsters card.

 

Joey reached out and plucked a cigarette from the case and Kaiba closed it neatly, returned it to the confines of his coat, and after rummaging in his pocket for a light he flicked open the lid to the Blue Eyes Zippo, igniting the flame. Joey leaned in with the cigarette now between his lips and guarded the light with a cupped hand until he’d gotten the cherry going. He leaned back against the wall, his shoulder tentatively touching Kaiba’s. He didn’t pull away.

 

“So uh, this is gonna sound weird. And outta nowhere. But I figured I might as well get it out there.”

 

Kaiba’s eyes, glazed over and searching, widened a bit. His mouth was a hard line, his jaw clenched, impossible to read. The glowing cigarette hung from his lips and he let it burn without bothering to inhale.

 

“I’m sorry. I guess. About the texts. In the group chat, I mean. Yugi wanted you to be part of the gang for a reason, and yeah I thought it was crazy and I went with it cuz I love the guy and I trust him.” Joey paused and took a drink before continuing without giving Kaiba a chance to interrupt. The cigarette in his mouth continued to burn, now almost down to the filter.

 

“Anyway, I guess it’s just. Easy for us, you know? Treating each other like shit all the time? My point is, tonight’s been pretty alright. And if you’re cool, maybe we could do it again. And if not, I’ll still try to lay off all the wisecracks about dragon boners. Sound good?”

 

“Just don’t do it in the group chat anymore.”

 

“What?”

 

“I said, don’t talk about it in the group chat.”

 

Kaiba had a weird look now that set Joey's nerves on edge. It was almost something that could technically be considered halfway to a smile, though his mouth was still turned down. It was all in his dark eyes. This might have been the freakiest he’d ever seen Kaiba look.

 

“I heard you, but are you tryna’ tell me —”

 

The slightest shift in Kaiba’s expression as his eyes refocused, the realization at what he’d revealed, told Joey everything he needed to know.

 

“I KNEW IT!”

 

_“Shut up for Christ’s sake Wheeler I will end you.”_

 

“I FUCKING KNEW IT, TRISTAN SAID I WAS FULL OF SHIT BUT I KNEW I WAS RIGHT!”

 

Kaiba dropped the expired cigarette from his mouth and reached out with a gloved hand to clamp it over Joey’s mouth, and promptly released it when he bit him.

 

“Fuck! I can’t believe… you fucking bit me… I’m leaving. This was stupid I’m calling...Roland…”

 

Joey started at Kaiba’s blurted curse; he’d never heard him swear once and it was jarring. He reach out and grabbed Kaiba’s wrist as he fished for his phone and held it in midair. Kaiba looked like he was ready to bite Joey back, with poisonous fangs.

 

“No, sorry, look just stop for two seconds, okay? I’m sorry and I won’t bring it up in the group anymore. But uh, it’s cool. I mean it. I’m not gonna tell anybody, I promise. Your secret’s safe with me.”

 

Kaiba glowered still but the steely edge in his eyes faltered. They were locked in place with Joey’s hand closed around Kaiba’s wrist, neither wanting to be the one to back down first. A lot had changed since high school, but some things remained the same.

 

“Why should I believe you?”

 

“Kaiba, how do you think I know what that site is? Why do you think I would even know to bring it up?”

 

Kaiba stared with glassy eyes flickering slightly as they searched Joey’s face to detect a point of weakness. Joey stubbornly kept his jaw clenched, not willing to give an inch. Maybe it was because he was drunk, or because they were both drunk, but something in Kaiba’s expression shifted and it seemed like the ironclad defense guarding any semblance of a real emotion had begun to slip.

 

“I… I don’t know. I assumed you were making your usual attempts to… Push me. Piss me off.” His voice quieted when he next spoke, speech a bit slurred, and Joey knew he was doomed to end tonight with a really bad decision.

 

“You’re always trying to make a fool out of me.”

 

Joey let go of Kaiba’s wrist and he pulled back, cell phone still clutched in his hand. He looked down at the beer he held in his other and tossed it in a trashcan nearby, and it fell heavy and half full to the bottom of the metal bin with a loud clang. There was a beat of silence between them and Joey threw away his own clattering beer bottle along with his unfinished and long extinguished cigarette. He ran his fingers through his hair, not caring what it looked like.

 

“Kaiba. I swear to God, you are the dumbest smart person I’ve ever met. I know what that website is because I’ve used it before. Several times, actually. So, like I said. Your secret’s safe with me.”

 

Kaiba was apparently too stunned to say anything. He still held that stupid phone in his hand, thumb poised to dial. Joey could kick himself for what he knew he was about to say next.

 

“So. Which one did ya get?”

 

“I’m not having this conversation, I need to leave. I have work in... five hours.”

 

Kaiba removed the glove from his right hand and swiped open his phone screen to dial, and Joey took out his own from his back pocket. He tapped on the mobile browser, pulling up the Bad-dragon.com website. He offered the phone to Kaiba who looked down at it like a snake poised to strike.

 

“Show me. C’mon, I’m curious. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

 

Joey raised his eyebrows for good measure and gave a lopsided grin. It was practically cheating, but he knew what cards to play when it came to this kind of thing.

 

Kaiba frowned deeply for a moment, but he put away his phone and snatched Joey’s from his hand. He scrolled, quickly tapped on a selection and passed the phone back. Joey looked down at the screen and nodded solemnly with a considerate “Hm”.

 

“Ah, Kelvin. That’s a good one, very classy.”

 

Kaiba said nothing in response, not even acknowledging that Joey had spoken. Joey waited, eyes cast down as he scrolled casually and pretended to look over the preview images with deep intrigue.

 

“Well?”

 

“Well, what?”

 

“You said you’d show me.”

 

Kaiba’s voice was quiet again, and when Joey glanced up there was a look cast over his sharp features that was all too familiar from previous late night encounters. He put on his best poker face and scrolled the menu options, opening a few links in new tabs. Joey held out the phone for Kaiba to see while he switched between the pages and watched his eyes widen and his brow furrow.

 

“Well, I started out with Roland, but that shit was crazy and honestly not really my jam. Clayton on the other hand was more my speed and I sprung for the marbling on that one, totally worth it. And this one? That’s Crackers and well, it’s a wild ride lemme tell ya.”

 

Kaiba reached out to pull the phone closer to his face and Joey’s hand followed with it. Their fingers touched again and Joey took the leap he’d been trying to figure out how to spring all night.

 

“I can show you, ya know. Let you try ‘em out. My place ain’t actually that far, I just don’t like comin’ down here that often.”

 

The phone was still hovering between them, its glow going dim as the screen timed out. Kaiba glanced between Joey’s face and the image displayed in the browser. He was considering it. Which was way further than Joey had expected to get.

 

Now he just needed to seal the deal.

 

“I can get a cab here pretty quick, and you’ll be back in time for whatever boring ass meetings ya got when the sun comes up. I’m not actually a hundred percent sure what it is you do up in that literal ivory tower of yours. But whatever it is, I promise it’ll be a lot easier to stomach after this.”

 

“After what?”

 

Fucking impossible.

 

“After we hook up, Kaiba.”

 

Kaiba’s eyes darted back to the phone screen just as it went black. He let go and pulled his phone from his pocket, flicking the screen on and dialing with quick fingers. Joey watched him lift it up to his ear as the dial tone rang and he prepared to call his own ride home.

 

Well, it had been worth a shot. He’d put forth his best effort and it was a good try, but even if he wasn’t successful at least he could cross this off the list and no real damage had been done. Joey was just typing the address of the bar into his rideshare app of choice when he caught the tail end of what Kaiba was saying.

 

“The same pickup location. No, the drop off is different. I’ll send the address. Five minutes is fine. There will be someone with me. Thank you.”

 

Joey stared blankly with his phone held suspended in one hand. Kaiba gave him nothing, his face carved in stone. When he asked for Joey’s address, he didn’t even think about how much of a mess his place was while he recited it for Kaiba to relay to his driver.

 

This night had been decidedly weird, and it was about to get a lot weirder.


End file.
